Hank: (nodding mouth full of roast and gravy) and the people who stand at the net?

Me: Goalies?

Hank: Yah, and if you get hit you have to go and defend the goal with them. YOU are never out in dodgeball. It is horrible and never ends. Plus, I always get picked last because they say I am too fraca (weak) and I am the same as a girl.

Pai: (wincing) Um…

Me: Whoa, not cool. Not all girls are weak and you aren’t weak! Sports just aren’t your thing. You’re killing it when it comes to your style, photography, robotics.

Hank: Kids call me a girl all the time, not just in gym. They either call me a girl or the older girls at school want me to be their best friend. (making a face of disgust)

Pai: The older girls think they’re helping.

Hank: But they’re not. (sigh)

Me: There should be a law about dodgeball. They ban perfectly wonderful books for less.

Pai: Not in Portugal. We don’t ban books in Portugal.

Hank: OR we should play with the American rules so that I can sit out. I’m picked last and the first one hit with the ball, every time. At least on Wednesday we all have to run 30 laps so we will all be too exhausted to do anything else.

Hank: No, he just thinks he will be cool if he picks on me. He’s new and feels left out because all the other boys have known each other since jardim infância (kindergarten).

Pai: That is a mature way of looking at it, but don’t let things get out of hand. We have a conference with your teacher scheduled. You can always let her know and the school can help.

Hank: It’s fine. I mean it’s not but… (pouring yet more gravy on his roast, rice, salad and broccoli) Agreeing with him and being sarcastic is helping. I know I’m not a girl, that I’m me and that I am who I am supposed to be and that’s okay. I don’t want to change, but…

Me: But it’s not easy being seen and having to stand up for yourself, but coming home to a whole pitcher of gravy helps?

Me: You are, indeed. Did you know that only eight people live in this village. Although, I’ve been told more come home for Christmas and summer holidays.

Molly: Yah.

Me: That means today you are the only little girl in this village.

Molly: It me?

Me: Yes, just you.

Molly: Okay.

Me: Once there were many little girls, but now they live closer to school and town.

Molly: No one is home. Não esta em casa (Not at home).

Me: Well, that isn’t true. We met Senior Antonio and his wife; they live here and this is their home. And the family that runs the restaurant, but their daughters are grown, no one as small as you anymore.

Molly: (pointing) What’s that, mommy?

Me: (looking up to see a wooden statue of a little girl placed in the door of an old stone oven) Oh, well hello there.

Molly: (waving at the statue) Hello!

Me: I guess you aren’t the only little girl in this village after all.

Molly: Who’s that?

Me: Well, I don’t know. Do you know who she is?

Molly: Yes, her Amália! (bouncing)

Me: Her name is Amália, just like you?

Molly: Yah! Hello, Amália. (waving)

Me: I am very pleased to meet you Amália… Madeira (wood). My name is Joy and this is my daughter Amália Pereira (pear tree).

Molly: (covering her mouth to giggle when she heard their rhyming names) I Amália. I aventureira (adventurer)! Be my friend? Amália Madeira my friend, mommy?

Me: Oh yes. We shall be friends with Amália Madeira always and forever.

Molly: She come home with us?

Me: No, she lives here. If she came to live with us then Senior Antonio and his wife would be very lonely, I think.

Molly: Yah. She my friend. I love you, Amália Madeira.

Me: Me, too! I love you, Amália Madeira.

Molly: Awwwe, I give her hug?

Me: Blow her kisses and she will catch them.

Molly: (blowing kisses) She catch them, she catch them! I see! You see too, mommy?

Molly: She little girl here. She the only little girl. Today, I here too! I make Amália Madeira happy. She make me happy. She make me sooooo happy, mommy.

Me: What a wonderful friend.

Molly: She my friend! She wonderful!

Aldeia da Pena is known as the village where “the dead kill the living.” Before the road was built the only way to access the village was by foot and if you wanted to bury your loved ones in consecrated ground you’d have to carry their remains out of the valley. The journey was difficult and some died on along the way, hence the moniker.

Backstory: When we encounter a stream or a good fountain it is Pai’s (Hank and Molly’s dad’s) job to make us paper boats to sail and at restaurants or cafés it is my job to turn our paper napkins into lotus flowers.

Molly: (overly tired, crying in her bed)

Hank: (in bed, asleep, wearing ear plugs and a sleep mask because no one ever called him dumb, not one day)

Me: Hey now, hey now, little darlin’. What is it we say every night? No more crying, time for sleeping.

Molly: (unaffected)

Me: (kneeling by her bed) Hush now, little chicken. What has you so upset?

Molly: (in between tears) I… Don’t… Want… Go to bed!

Me: I know, lovie. It’s hard to stop the day, but it’s time for dreaming.